Hallways were dangerous. In fact, one would be best advised to avoid the walking of them wherever and whenever possible. Indeed, perhaps it might be best to confine yourself to your quarters, or further, your bunk, to prevent incidents such as occurred in the wee hours of the universal morning on board the Battlestar Galactica.

It was morning, (obviously) and the tunnel-like passages between the useful areas of the ship were poorly lit. Lee couldn’t think why they did that. If you’re in space then you’re in space. There is no morning, night or in-between and the mood lighting was really starting to peeve him off. Dee always suspected it was because his vision struggled but Lee was a Viper pilot – trained to fly dangerous missions in the cold, dark void of space, therefore his eyesight was perfect. Except – you didn’t have to worry about running into anything in a void…

The collision was artistic.

A pile of folders flew across the hallway – someone stumbled, snapped a high-heal and fell. Coffee, not the civilized stuff found in high society café’s, followed its owner to the floor where it coated her and her collision buddy. This stuff was the primeval sludge that sustained generations of Presidents since time began. It was also painfully scalding.

“Aww… Frak!” Laura lifted her head off the ground enough to view the devastation. “Dammit Lee!” She muttered, shoving him off her. “Watch where you’re going in the future or I’ll make sure you won’t receive one.”

Lee rolled over in pain. Ow. Someone was snapping at him and something was burning its way through his shirt. Lee shifted to find a very pissed off President kneeling on the hallway floor, collecting up her scattered folders. To his dismay, he saw that both their clothes were dripping with a thick substance that looked nasty enough to stain. It seemed to taste all right though… To make it worse, there were shards of porcelain from her mug covering the floor like a light snow fall, several of which were embedded in his arm. No really, ow… Lee pulled a few out.

Laura sighed heavily. “I’ll have to change now. I hope you’re better at flying than you are at walking Captain, otherwise I’ll get Starbuck to fly me down to the planet.”

“Yes sir, of course sir.” Lee managed before she left in a huff.

“We’re approaching the planet’s surface. Estimated Time of Arrival is two minutes Madame President.”

President Laura Roslin eyed the co-pilot. “We can’t keep referring to it as ‘the planet’ Mr. Gaeta.”

Gaeta frowned slightly, he was quite comfortable cataloguing large amounts of data with non-descript titles and didn’t see the need to name this temporary water stop. “Madame President?”

Baltar seemed a little confused too because he woke up from his trance-like state to her to stare at her in a confusion. Even Lee, the pilot, cocked his eyebrows in opposite directions.

“It’s got to have a name.” She insisted. “I refuse to spend two days on a planet without a name. It’s just plain creepy.”

“Excuse me, creepy?” said Baltar in alarm.

Gaeta stared down at the expanse of fresh water below. 80% of the planet was fresh water, 11% was lush rainforest, 4% was mud and the remainder was so high off the ground it was nothing but rock and ice. Nope. Gaeta didn’t have any ideas.

Okay… Thought Lee, not wanting to upset the President further after his run in with her that morning. He peered down at the vast amounts of water. “How about ‘Waterworld’?”

“Oh,” sighed Baltar dramatically, “how original”.

“It’s a little corny sir.”

“I don’t see any suggestions from you, Felix.”

Helo flicked open the lense of his new, shiny video camera and held it up to survey the interior of the Raptor, “It is early morning on day one as we approach the surface of the unnamed world. For the next forty-eight hours we will be following the lives of these curious creatures as they explore what we know to be the ‘Land of the Dead’.“

Baltar’s breath quickened.

Laura glared. “Who gave that man a camera?”

Frakit… Lee had specifically told Helo to document the planet not the people. He only gave it to him because Helo caught Lee playing with it in the hallway outside the flight deck and stole it. “Uh, I might have, but it was an accident!”

“You die later.”

Lee hit an air pocket in frustration and the contents of the Raptor screamed in fright – especially Baltar.

“Take it easy Captain Apollo,” scowled Laura, “your future just took another step toward the airlock.”

“This is very special, very special indeed audience. You have just witnessed the leader of this tribe threaten one its underlings. Stay tuned for developments.

“Will the small, delusional one live through the events about to unfold? Will the geek name the planet? Will the expedition find anything scary on the planet’s surface. All this and more, after the break.”

Two minutes and four seconds later they landed on the surface of, ‘Ambrosia’. It was the only name all seven occupants could agree on given the greenish tinge of the water and extremely dangerous landing spots.

Four beings toppled ungracefully out of the Raptor.

“Why did you have to land in a tree, Apollo?”

“Well,” Lee glared at Baltar, “let’s see, there was water – lots more water, more-more water, cliffs and trees. You do the math.”

“Don’t think I won’t!” growled Baltar, removing a twig from his hair and shoving Gaeta off.

“Sorry Mr. Vice President. I seemed to have mistaken you for the airbag.”

Helo took a few panning shots of the crash site.

The actual President emerged from within the Raptor seemingly unharmed from their rough landing. “Alright everybody spread out and find somewhere to set up base while I look for this temple marker.” The group muttered some kind of hostile agreement. “And Apollo, next time try landing on the ground.” She attached that last remark with a glare and Lee couldn’t help but think that it was his day to be picked on by the gods – also known as ‘Laura Roslin’.

Baltar was alone. So very, very, very alone. In every direction he could swivel his head, he was met with the thickening cover of dense leaves.

Frak.

The leaves hung down, touching his head lightly as he passed through them. Was the canopy falling or was Baltar getting taller? He couldn’t tell as he was forced to crouch to probe his way deeper into the jungle.

He had been sent on a mission of, to quote the President, ’supreme importance’.

Find a suitable camping spot.

Baltar was convinced this was not an important mission but rather an elaborate plot by the others to make him carry the camping equipment through the dense and creepy undergrowth. Yes, he did mean that literally. The undergrowth was prowling up behind him and lengthening its arms from above as vines slinked through the canopy to brush over him.

It was dark and wet. So far all he’d managed to find were rocks and jungle. Nowhere he would, even in his most remote dreams, consider setting up any kind of ‘camp’.

Baltar shifted the weight of the pack on his shoulders.

‘Frakking democracy! Give the scientist the easy job indeed. Bastards.’

That’s when he heard it. A deep, guttural growl.

Baltar froze with terror.

“Here we have the lover, presumably captured by a rival. Observe here, where the undergrowth is disturbed. The rope must have been concealed be the perpetrator. Above us now we can see the surprised prey, still dangling in the air. A very successful plan.”

“Helo, put the camera down and get me down!“

Helo tracked the camera up to see Felix. “As you can see, this species can get quite desperate when suspended in mid air.”

“HELO! Stop frakking around!”

“Irritation and anger is swift to follow when no help is available. Come audience, I hear something over there. Let us explore this fantastic world further.”

“You’re DEAD Helo!” Shouted Felix for all he was worth. Helo didn’t seem to care as he continued on, camera in hand.

“Did you find the beast?”

“Let’s just say that it’s injured but not deterred.”

Lee, who was afraid of the smallest, wing variety of alien, did not require much persuasion.